


Sometimes

by Ladycat



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Observations, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 03:17:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladycat/pseuds/Ladycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, when it's just the two of them in the 'jumper, the chairs kind of... move</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes

Sometimes, when it's just the two of them in the 'jumper, the chairs kind of... move. Not a lot. Just enough. Once their seats settle again, locked to the floor like they'd never uprooted, John drops one arm -- because he doesn't need two hands to fly, not when it's slow and easy like this, skating over clouds under the pure expanse of blue -- and Rodney does, too.

It's the barest of touches. A nothing, really. Just a knuckle that brushes against the puffy part, joining joint to joint, of another. Fingers that stroke back and forth, not always. Not constantly. Not consistently. 

Just sometimes.

* * *

"Do these seats seem closer to you?" Lorne doesn't expect Teyla to answer. She communicates more through her stance and her carefully guarded expression than words. He's not really interested in an answer, though; sitting closer to her is never a hardship.

It's just a little confusing, since, well. These seats aren't removable, not if the puddlejumper's to remain whole. And they've _tested_ that.

"I believe you are correct, Major," she says, surprising the stoic off of him.

"Uh," he says, and hates that he sounds school-boy stupid. She flashes him a look from beneath the amber curve of her bangs, and the suddenly added sprinkle of bashful is almost more than he can take. "Is it a problem?"

This time it's not a flash. This time, Lorne gets a full on smile, the kind that's slower than the hottest summer days, sultry and inviting and without that half-step of iciness to plunge him back to reality. "I do not believe it is," she says, mild as milk. "Are you uncomfortable, Major?"

"You can call me Evan," slips out. He doesn't blush, fortunately, because he rarely does that. Teyla makes him want to. He thinks she might appreciate a blushing man. "Um, that is, I don't have a problem, ma'am."

"I am pleased to hear that. Perhaps we should be on our way? I believe Colonel Sheppard expressed his desire to take this particular jumper to examine the pole that Doctor McKay was so interested in."

Lorne takes the 'jumper up smoothly, turning her words over in his mind. There's something there, in them. Something pretty important, since Teyla measures what words she does say as miserly as his grandmother, who never really got over the Depression. 

"This particular jumper, ma'am?"

"He rarely flies any other."

Sometimes, Lorne knows when to remember things. He's good at forgetting, too; it's why he's here on base and not back at SGC no matter how many times he asked for Atlantis, no matter how strong his gene is. 

Sometimes, when he thinks he can, Lorne remembers the way the Colonel hovers in McKay's personal space, something he never does with anyone else. And he thinks about the way Sheppard sometimes lifts his hand, fingers startlingly delicate for a man who gets his knuckles cracked as much as Lorne knows Sheppard does, brushing them against the back of Rodney's neck.

Sometimes, Lorne thinks about that a lot.

When he drops his hand down past his thigh, warm skin rests against his own, and neither of them say anything at all.

* * *

Sometimes, Teyla wishes these new men in her life were not so frightened of things they should rejoice in.

Most of the time, though, she is merely glad to have such a subtle ally.

When she disembarks, she pats the 'jumper's exterior. It hums beneath her touch, laughter as warm as her mother's curling through her. She approves of the odd custom the 'Western' culture has, of naming vessels of transportation in the feminine. 

It is accurate.

* * *

Sometimes, John wants more than just to feel the reassuring heat of Rodney's life.

Sometimes, Rodney can't take another moment's separation.

* * *

Sometimes, they go to the tiny cove only one 'jumper can sense, with sugar-beaches and green-clear water, and a bungalow that's everything Atlantis isn't and should be.

* * *

The 'jumpers logs never show their dalliance.

Because sometimes, all they really need is to sit too close.


End file.
